


Simple Words

by sonoflight



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Gen, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonoflight/pseuds/sonoflight
Summary: Five doesn't know just how much he needs a hug until he gets a surprise visit from Diego. Aka the shortest thing I've ever written yeet





	Simple Words

**Author's Note:**

> I was prompted to inflict pain on an entire Discord chat. Thought I might share with the rest of y'all. Enjoy!

Five is alone in his room, staring up at the equations he’d scribbled a lifetime ago. He can’t believe they kept his room the same all this time. But then again, it’s not like any of them ever actually cared enough to snoop in his things while he was here, so maybe it makes sense that they wouldn’t care to touch anything after he was gone.

Somebody knocks on his door. “Come in,” he calls, turning around to see who it is. Probably Klaus come to ask for some more “quality time.” Quality time meaning drug money.

But to his surprise, it’s Diego, though his usual swagger is missing, replaced with a sort of hunched-shoulder, foot-shuffling awkwardness that he hasn’t shown since they were kids. And he has a look on his face like he didn’t actually expect Five to let him in and now doesn’t know what to do. Which is weird. But no, if Five thinks about it, it makes sense. Diego’s never been great with emotions.

“Hi, Five,” he says, clipped and uncomfortable.

Five nods in greeting. “Hey, Diego. Is there a problem?” He regrets his tone as soon as the question is out of his mouth. He never knew that Diego could look so _hurt_ by just a few words. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just—ugh, just come on in.”

After a brief hesitation, Diego steps in past the doorway. “I, uh.” He looks down. “I wanted to see how you’re holding up. Y’know. After… everything.”

Five snorts. “Everything” is such a nice way of phrasing the hell that the last few weeks have been. Winding up in his thirteen-year-old body because of a botched jump, trying and failing to stop the apocalypse, having to jump back to the past to fix everything, jumping back to the present and reverting everyone’s state to normal but his own... And now, on April 2nd, sitting alone since apparently they’re all back to acting like they can’t stand to be around each other. Like he said, it’s been hell, but—

“I’m fine,” he lies smoothly. “But thanks for asking.” The faintest hint of a scowl appears on Diego’s face, which Five does not acknowledge. He’s not obligated to tell Diego anything, and it’s best if he doesn’t throw his own angst into the mix. His family is doing just fine drowning themselves in the tension as it is.

He prepares for Diego to blow up at him and start yelling his head off, and he’s already fishing around his brain for the nicest way of saying “fuck off” that is both civil and inarguable. What he doesn’t expect is for Diego to do nothing but sigh heavily and sink down on the bed next to him, deflated of whatever anger Five had been expecting of him.

“You gotta talk about it sometime, y’know.”

“No, actually, I don’t.” Five leans back against the wall and fiddles with his chalk. “And even if I did, I’m not sure you’re my best option.”

He means for it to hurt, but Diego, who seems intent on serving curveball after curveball, just shrugs and mirrors Five’s position. “Maybe not,” he says. “But no one else has bothered to ask you how you’re coping, so I thought it might be nice to offer.”

Five is floundering. This is so unlike Diego—or any of his siblings for that matter—that he’s struggling to come up with the right responses. He knows he needs help, he’s not an idiot, but there’s a very petulant and very stubborn part of his brain that refuses to give in, and this results in a rather snappish, “Do you even care?” that has Diego’s head turning so fast that Five thinks morbidly that it might fly off.

“Of course I care,” Diego says. “You’re my brother. I love you.”

And that’s what breaks Five. He tries to fight it, but there’s no stopping the tears once they start because shit, he hasn’t heard those words in forty-five years. Not even from Delores. Who was even the last one to say it to him? Was it Mom? Was it Ben? Or maybe Vanya? He honestly can’t remember, and that itself is an agonizing realization.

In a matter of seconds, he’s gone from tearing up to openly sobbing, and god does he sound young. It’s clear from his wide eyes and gaping mouth that Diego hadn’t expected a simple “I love you” to have this effect on Five. Which is completely fair because by all rights, it shouldn’t. Five is untouchable. He’s stoic and pragmatic, and he doesn’t cry over sentiments, especially not ones as simple as this.

And yet.

Five almost laughs as Diego awkwardly reaches over and pats his shoulder because this— _this_ is Diego in all his stunted glory, and clumsy attempts at comfort are so much easier to deal with than real emotions.

Damn, maybe he really is screwed up. “I’m sorry,” Five hiccups, voice thick. He wipes at his eyes in vain. “Don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Diego says roughly. And then all of a sudden, he pulls Five into a bear hug.

Five goes rigid, his first instinct to pull away from the contact, but this is also the first hug he’s gotten since he disappeared, and even he can’t pretend like it doesn’t feel good to be wrapped up in a real human body, warm and alive and squeezing all the air out of him.

So after a long moment of holding himself taut as a bow, Five gives in and snakes his arms around Diego’s middle. With the newly granted permission, Diego squeezes tighter, and Five realizes that his knife-wielding, tough-guy, vigilante brother is also crying.

He bunches his hands in the back of Diego’s shirt. “I love you too,” he mumbles into his brother’s chest. Saying it is like lifting a concrete block off of his chest and he inhales a ragged breath, repeating the words again and again like a prayer.

All those years alone, dreaming and daydreaming about all the things he wished he’d said to his family before he had to bury them and walk away, lest he be consumed by the grief—and his biggest regret was that none of them would ever know how he, for all his put-on aloofness, really did love them. He’d said it to their corpses as he kissed each cold forehead goodbye, and he’d scribbled it in his notebook of lost dreams, but in all the chaos of coming back, he’d once more forgotten to say it to any of them.

He feels Diego nod to indicate that he’d heard, that he knows, but neither of them move to break the hug. And that’s okay. Because Five has part of his family back, and he doesn’t intend on letting that go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Any feedback is loved and cherished, and you can catch me on tumblr [@lastoftherealblues](http://lastoftherealblues.tumblr.com/)!


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